


Trouble With a Capital "T"

by Krytella



Category: Sherlock Holmes (2009), Sherlock Holmes - Doyle
Genre: M/M, Object Insertion, Pool Table, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-13
Updated: 2010-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-07 05:53:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krytella/pseuds/Krytella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally posted on the Sherlock Holmes Kink Meme: "I have a pool table kink. I'd love for Watson to bend Holmes over a pool table and do filthy things to him. You know, if that's alright." http://sherlockkink.livejournal.com/1302.html?thread=2712342#t2712342</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trouble With a Capital "T"

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing but porn here, folks. I blame the kink meme. This is my first Holmes fic, and you could look at it based on Doyle or movie canon.

"Well, Watson, I believe we're done here."

Holmes had collected some very interesting cigar ashes from the deserted pool-hall. They would wrap up Mr. Bennet's case quite nicely, sealing the supposition that he played the horses. He felt the warmth of intellectual satisfaction suffuse him, making him itchy and restless in his skin.

"There's little point in returning to sleep at this hour," Watson called from the other side of the room. "Fancy a game? We can test our skills without distraction," he gestured at the billiard table.

Something to focus this excess of energy on. Good. Holmes was no expert at billiards, since it was almost completely tangential to his work, but if there was any good time to engage in professionally useless pursuits, it was now.

"Not for money. Winner may demand a boon from the loser," Holmes replied.

Halfway into the game, it was clear to Holmes that his physical control and observation of angles was barely a match for Watson's long experience in houses of gambling. This would be a challenging contest. Watson leaned out across the table, expertly balanced for a winning hazard. Steady doctor's hands, clear doctor's eyes. Holmes could not let himself be distracted by the shapely doctor's posterior being thrust at him by the position. Not at all. No distractions, and he could win his game.

All was nearly lost as Watson straightened up, turned, and noticed his rival's gaze upon him. He'd obviously learned over the years to take notice of what the detective was observing. He leaned against the table and licked his lips. Damn. Damn him and his damned distractions from the purity of geometry. Despite it, all, Holmes soldiered on, calculated his next shot and the next. When all three balls sunk in one shot, he felt himself brilliant. Then Watson did the same twice in a row to creep first over the winning total of points, barely ahead.

Holmes resigned himself. It was never pleasant to lose, even to his dearest friend. His competitive nature abhorred it. But he could still look back on the pleasant glow of this case so recently solved. And he could still...

Watson interrupted his thoughts by spinning him roughly around and shoving him forward into the billiard table. Holmes' breath hitched involuntarily when as the sharp edge bit into his thighs.

"I believe I have earned a boon, my dear," Watson purred like a self-satisfied cat, placing a firm hand on Holmes' back to force his face down to the surface. Holmes had nothing to see but the unmoving table; his senses narrowed and the others sharpened. Watson's hardness rubbed through their layers of clothing against his ass. Watson quickly divested him of the fabric, leaving him bare to the tobacco-scented air. Hands gripped roughly, kneading the flesh, spreading him open.

Heat. Wetness. Holmes moaned in spite of himself. He would never get used to this. He was amazed the good doctor had ever started to do it, given his usual standards of hygiene. Never mind the justifications, Watson's tongue was flicking over his asshole and it was amazing.

Too soon, Watson pulled away. It was cold again, then hot with a slick insistent finger, so good, not enough, then cold and hard -- oh yes, the blunt end of the cue stick, how inventive -- but it was getting hard to think. Hard to think with the hard wooden stick rammed in his ass, moving slowly at the perfect angle. Too slowly. Holmes whined and thrust back into it, trying to change the rhythm, only to be immediately shoved down again.

"Please, fuck, you've bested me..." Holmes managed to breathe out. "Just... please! More, harder, want, bugger me. John."

He didn't care that he was incoherent. Didn't matter, Watson would know what he needed. Holmes' cock rubbed against the pool table, painfully stimulated but he didn't dare take it in hand himself.

He felt the cue stick slowly withdrawn, and then Watson slammed into him, slapping his solid body against Holmes. Every thrust ground his cheek into the rough surface. The heavy table was rocking a little with their movements now, sending the balls slowly rolling and clacking against each other. His hands scrabbled for purchase, still trying just a bit to thrust back. He couldn't help himself. He was panting, sweating through his shirt, writhing under Watson's firm hands on his hips. He had no more control of himself when it got to this point.

"My... prize..." Watson grunted out through his exertion.

"Yours. Own me."

At that, Watson finally reached around to grip Holmes' cock, jerking him roughly with a not so steady hand. Holmes was beyond trying to hold back, beyond shame, yelling out his release as waves of pleasure ripped through him. In his haze, he felt Watson soon after, leaving bruises on hips as he spilled into Holmes.

There were a few moments of slowing breathing as they came back to themselves, Watson pulling Holmes up to hold his back to Watson's damp chest.

"Well, Watson, I believe we're done here."

**Author's Note:**

> They're playing English Billiards, which was the common game of the time in England. Two cue balls and one target.
> 
> I do not know where the object penetration came from. I just have a dirty, dirty mind, and I wrote this at 2am. Also, I promise someday I will write slash that doesn't include rimming. I really don't kink on it that much in real life, it just shows up every time I write.


End file.
